


Sweat, Baby, Sweat

by Shane_for_Wax



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shane_for_Wax/pseuds/Shane_for_Wax
Summary: Shepard can dance, in multiple different ways.





	Sweat, Baby, Sweat

Dancing was universal. Style of dancing was not. Tempo was always important. One could be good at one style, and bad at another. Some people preferred to dance in their bedroom, others had to have an audience or they saw no point. 

Shane Shepard wasn’t adverse to competitions. In fact, she loved them. But they had to be tailored to something she could do. 

She could remember when she had been so sure Jack never would have agreed to dancing a slow dance with the Commander. Jack was one of those people who preferred club dancing. Hot, fast, sweaty. Shane, despite being a vanguard, took things slower. She had more grace that way. 

But there they were, dancing in some marathon where swing and tango were king. 

Some people would say they cheated, though. But then, biotics added quite a flare to their dancing, didn’t it? And nobody had the guts to take away the trophy from the two strongest human biotics in the galaxy. 

But the Commander didn’t much care about the trophy. She didn’t much care about winning. Though it was a nice feeling. 

What she cared about was the way Jack looked after fifteen hours of dancing. What she cared about was the heave of Jack’s chest. What she cared about was the sweat that could be seen on both of their bodies. What she cared about was doing a different kind of dance later at home. 

Yeah, the trophy was nice. But like with a lot of things, Shane had an ulterior motive.

The smell of sweat and biotics mingled in the air. The trophy sat forgotten on a table in the living room.

And Jack’s hips rolled for a totally different reason.


End file.
